What's the difference in bird flu and swine flu?
You get tweetment for one and oinkment for the other.

this is kinda old, but here goes.... >
Lone Ranger and Tonto went camping in the desert. After they got their tent all set up, both men fell sound asleep.
Some hours later, Tonto wakes the Lone Ranger and says, 'Kemo Sabe, look towards sky, what you see? 'The Lone Ranger replies, 'I see millions of stars.' What that tell you?' asked Tonto. The Lone Ranger ponders for a minute then says, 'Astronomically speaking, it tells me there are millions of galaxies and potentially billions of planets. Astrologically, it tells me that Saturn is in Leo. Time wise, it appears to be approximately a quarter past three in the morning. astrlogically, the Lord is all-powerful and we are small and insignificant. it seems we will have a beautiful day tomorrow. What's it tell you, Tonto?
You dumber than Madmex . It means someone stole the tent!

THESE ARE ENTRIES TO A WASHINGTON POST COMPETITION ASKING FOR A TWO-LINE RHYME WITH THE MOST ROMANTIC FIRST LINE, AND THE LEAST ROMANTIC SECOND LINE:


1.
My darling, my lover, my beautiful wife:
Marrying you has screwed up my life.
2.
I see your face when I am dreaming.
That's why I always wake up screaming.
3.
Kind, intelligent, loving and hot;
This describes everything you are not.
4.
Love may be beautiful, love may be bliss,
But I only slept with you 'cause I was pissed.
5.
I thought that I could love no other
-- that is until I met your brother.
6.
Roses are red, violets are blue, sugar is sweet, and so are you.
But the roses are wilting, the violets are dead, the sugar bowl's empty and so is your head.
7.
I want to feel your sweet embrace;
But don't take that paper bag off your face.
8.
I love your smile, your face, and your eyes
Damn, I'm good at telling lies!
9.
My love, you take my breath away.
What have you stepped in to smell this way?
10..
My feelings for you no words can tell,
Except for maybe 'Go to hell.'
11.
What inspired this amorous rhyme?
Two parts vodka, one part lime.

Three years ago, Chinese calendar year of the cow... Mad Cow Disease.
Two years ago, Chinese calendar year of the bird... Avian Flu.
This year, Chinese calendar year of the pig... Swine Flu.
Next year is the year of the cock... Anybody else worried???

I was at an ATM today and an elderly lady approached, and asked me to check her balance.
so I pushed her...

[eamazings.com]

Tiger Woods has been dropped by Gillette after admitting that his crash was the closest shave he had ever had.

A movie is being developed based on events, titled "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Hydrant".

EA Sports are releasing a new Playstation Game....."Tiger Woods 2010, Grand Theft Auto"

What does Tiger Woods have in common with baby seals? They both get clubbed by Norwegians.

Tiger Woods is so rich that he owns lots of expensive cars. Now he has a hole in one.

What's the difference between a car and a golf ball? Tiger can drive a ball 300 yards.

Tiger Woods wasn't seriously injured in the crash, but he's still below par.

What were Tiger Woods and his wife doing out at 2.30 in the morning?
They went clubbing

Tiger Woods crashed into a fire hydrant and a tree. He couldn't decide between a wood and an iron.

After a wayward drive, Tiger Woods found water before nestling behind a tree.

Q: What's an Australian kiss?
A: The same thing as a French kiss, only down under.

Four guys spend weeks planning the perfect football outing for an away game between the Ohio State Buckeyes and the Michigan Wolverines.
Two days before the group is to leave Frank's wife puts her foot down and tells him he isn't going. Frank's friends are very upset that he can't go, but what can they do?
On game day, two days later, the three get to the stadium site only to find Frank already sitting in his seat with a beer in one hand and a hot dog in the other.
"Damn man, how long you been here, and how did you talk your wife into letting you go?"
"Well, I've been here since yesterday. The other evening, I was sitting in my chair and my wife came up behind me and put her hands over my eyes and said 'guess who'?"
I pulled her hands off and she was wearing a brand new see-through nightie. She took my hand and led me to our bedroom. The room had two dozen candles and rose petals all over. On the bed she had handcuffs and ropes! She told me to tie her up and cuff her to the bed, and so I did.
And then she said "Now, do whatever you want."
So here I am!

‘Twas the night of Thanksgiving

and out of the house

Tiger Woods, he came flying

Chased by his spouse.



She wielded a 9 iron

And wasn’t too merry

‘cause a bimbo’s phone #

she found on his blackberry.


He had been cheating

On poor little Elin,

and as each day went by

Another whore came out squeallin’


He’d been on Holly, on Jamie

On Rachel, on Corey,

On Joslyn, Kaleeka

TMZ had the story.


From the top of the world

To above the fold

Tiger’s ever more sordid

Tale it was told.


With hostesses, waitresses

He had lots of sex,

And when he wasn’t hosin’ ‘em

He sent ‘em hot texts.


He crashed his Caddie

But didn’t call On-Star

He played “spank me Daddy’

With a skanky old porn star


He’s been naughty

With Santa, he hasn’t a chance,

‘cept a big lump of coal

to match the lump in his pants.


But despite all his crying

And begging and pleadin’

His wife went right out

And bought a new house in Sweden.


And I heard her exclaim

As she packed up the escalade

‘If you’re gonna get laid,

Then, I’m gonna get paid!”


Now, she’s not pouting

In fact, she’s of good cheer

Her Pre-nup made Christmas

Come early this year!

Tiagra. It's good for 18 holes

Alcohol consumption may be hazardous to your health.

(pics) [funzu.com]

A mother took her daughter to the doctor and asked him to give her an examination to determine the cause of the daughter's swollen abdomen.

It only took the doctor about 2 seconds to say, "Gimme a break, lady! Your daughter is pregnant!"


The mother turn red with fury, and she argued with the doctor that *her* daughter was a good girl, and would *never* compromise her reputation by having sex with a boy.

The doctor faced the window and silently watched the horizon.

The mother became enraged and screamed, "Quit looking out the window! Are not you paying attention to me?"

"Yes, of course I am paying attention, ma'am. It's just that the last time this happened, a star appeared in the east, and three wise men came. I was hoping they had show up again, and help me figure out who got your daughter pregnant!"

A little girl was playing up a tree near a church. The priest was taking a walk when he happened to look up the tree and saw the little girl. She had no panties on.

He called her down and gave her money to buy a pair of panties.

The girl was so happy and told her mommy about it.

The next day when the priest was again taking his daily walk, he looked up the same tree and saw the young girl's mother up there. She was grinning and had no panties on.

He called her down and gave her two dollars to buy a razor.

The Population of this country is 300 million.

160 million are retired.

That leaves 140 million to do the work.

There are 85 million in school.

Which leaves 55 million to do the work.

Of this there are 35 million employed by the federal government.

Leaving 20 million to do the work.

2.8 million are in the armed forces preoccupied with killing Osama Bin-Laden.

Which leaves 17.2 million to do the work.

Take from that total the 15.8 million people who work for state and city governments

And that leaves 1.4 million to do the work.

At any given time there are 188,000 people in hospitals.

Leaving 1,212,000 to do the work.

Now, there are 1,211,998 people in prisons.

That leaves just two people to do the work.

You and me.

And there you are, sitting on your ass, at your computer, reading jokes.

Nice. Real nice.

A girl was visiting her blonde friend, who had acquired two new dogs, and asked her what their names were.

The blonde responded by saying that one was named Rolex and one was named Timex.

Her friend said, “Whoever heard of someone naming dogs like that?”

“HELLLOOOOOOO……,” answered the blond. “They’re watch dogs!”

Canadian Eh?

TOP REASONS TO LIVE IN BRITISH COLUMBIA
1. Vancouver : 1.5 million people and two bridges. You do the math.
2. Your $400,000 Vancouver home is just 5 hours from downtown.
3. You can throw a rock and hit three Starbucks locations.
4. There's always some sort of deforestation protest going on.
5. Weed.

TOP REASONS TO LIVE IN ALBERTA
1. Big rock between you and B.C.
2. Ottawa who?
3. Tax is 5% instead of the approximately 200% it is for the rest of the
country.
4. You can exploit almost any natural resource you can think of.
5. You live in the only province that could actually afford to be its own
country.
6. The Americans below you are all in anti-government militia groups.

TOP REASONS TO LIVE IN SASKATCHEWAN
1. You never run out of wheat.
2. Your province is really easy to draw.
3. You can watch the dog run away from home for hours.
4. People will assume you live on a farm.
5. Daylight savings time? Who the hell needs that!

TOP REASONS TO LIVE IN MANITOBA
1. You wake up one morning to find that you suddenly have a beachfront
property.
2. Hundreds of huge, horribly frigid lakes.
3. Nothing compares to a wicked Winnipeg winter.
4. You can be an Easterner or a Westerner depending on your mood.
5. You can pass the time watching trucks and barns float by.

TOP REASONS TO LIVE IN ONTARIO
1. You live in the centre of the universe.
2. Your $400,000 Toronto home is actually a dump.
3. You and you alone decide who will win the federal election.
4. The only province with hard-core American-style crime.

TOP REASONS TO LIVE IN QUEBEC
1. Racism is socially acceptable.
2. You can take bets with your friends on which English neighbour will
move out next.
3. Other provinces basically bribe you to stay in Canada .
4. You can blame all your problems on the "Anglo A*#!%!"?

TOP REASONS TO LIVE IN NEW BRUNSWICK
1. One way or another, the government gets 98% of your income.
2. You're poor, but not as poor as the Newfies.
3. No one ever blames anything on New Brunswick .
4. Everybody has a grandfather who runs a lighthouse.

TOP REASONS TO LIVE IN NOVA SCOTIA
1. Everyone can play the fiddle. The ones who can't, think they can.
2. You can pretend to have Scottish heritage as an excuse to get drunk and
wear a kilt.
3. You are the only reason Anne Murray makes money.

TOP REASONS TO LIVE IN PRINCE EDWARD ISLAND
1. Even though more people live on Vancouver Island , you still got the
big, new bridge.
2. You can walk across the province in half an hour.
3. You can drive across the province in two minutes.
4. Everyone has been an extra on "Road to Avonlea."
5. This is where all those tiny, red potatoes come from.
6. You can confuse ships by turning your porch lights on and off at night.

TOP REASONS TO LIVE IN NEWFOUNDLAND
1. If Quebec separates, you will float off to sea.
2. If you do something stupid, you have a built-in excuse.
3. The workday is about two hours long.
4. It is socially acceptable to wear your hip waders to your wedding.

Pass this along to Canadians who need a laugh and foreigners who can learn
something about Canada and then enjoy a good chuckle.

Let's face it: Canadians are a rare breed.

The Officia l Canadian Temperature Conversion Chart

50° Fahrenheit (10° C)
· Californians shiver uncontrollably.
· Canadians plant gardens.

35° Fahrenheit (1.6° C)
· Italian Cars won't start
· Canadians drive with the windows down

32° Fahrenheit (0° C)
· American water freezes
· Canadian water gets thicker.

0° Fahrenheit (-17.9° C)
· New York City landlords finally turn on the heat.
· Canadians have the last cookout of the season.

-60° Fahrenheit (-51° C)
· Santa Claus abandons the North Pole.
· Canadian Girl Guides sell cookies door-to-door.

-109.9° Fahrenheit (-78.5° C)
· Carbon dioxide freezes makes dry ice.
· Canadians pull down their earflaps.

-173° Fahrenheit (-114° C)
· Ethyl alcohol freezes.
· Canadians get frustrated when they can't thaw the keg

-459.67° Fahrenheit (-273.15° C)
· Absolute zero; all atomic motion stops.
· Canadians start saying "cold, eh?"

-500° Fahrenheit (-295° C)
· Hell freezes over.
· The Toronto Maple Leafs win the Stanley Cup

An older, white-haired man walked into a jewelry store one Friday evening with a beautiful young gal at his side.

He told the jeweler he was looking for a special ring for his new girlfriend.

The jeweler looked through his stock and brought out a $5,000 ring. The old man said, 'No, I'd like to see something a bit more "special".

At that statement, the jeweler went to his special stock and brought another ring over. "Here's a truly stunning ring at only $40,000" the jeweler said.

The young lady's eyes sparkled and her whole body visibly trembled with excitement. The old man seeing this said to the jeweler, "We'll take it!"

The jeweler asked how payment would be made and the old man replied, “I'll write you a personal check”.

Seeing the look that then came over the jewelers face he then added "I know you'll need to make sure the check is good, so I'll write the check and give it to you now and you can call the bank Monday and verify the funds. I'll pick the ring up Monday afternoon after you hear back from the bank."

Monday morning, after placing a call to the bank the jeweler phoned the old man and related "Sir, I called your bank and they informed me there's apparently a shortage in your account and this check wouldn't clear."

"I know, I know," replied the old man, "but let me tell you about the weekend I had!"

Caution: All Seniors aren't Senile!

God's Wrath According To Pat Robertson
700 Club founder Pat Robertson stated that the earthquake in Haiti, which may have killed 100,000 people, was God's punishment for a deal Haitian slaves made with the devil 200 years ago to get out from under French rule. Here are some other tragedies and Robertson's explanations for them:

* Eruption of Mount St. Helens, 1980: Divine wrath was incurred when people were too busy enjoying the natural beauty of Washington state and not spending enough time appreciating God
* Space Shuttle Challenger Explosion, 1986: Ten-year-old Walt Sudul, of Racine, WI, made friends with a Jewish boy at school
* Oakland Hills Firestorm, 1991: Emily Garrity pointed out a logical inconsistency in the concept of an omnipotent god to her Sunday school teacher
* Magic Johnson Tests Positive for HIV, 1991: An ardent Portland Trail Blazers fan, God was horrified to see His team lose 4-2 to the Los Angeles Lakers in the 1991 Western Conference Finals,
and thus decided to give the winner's best player AIDS
* Crash of American Airlines Flight 587, 2001: Though the flight was filled with pious individuals, God was distracted by a masturbating 14-year-old in Boise, ID and was therefore unable to
keep the aircraft from falling apart in midair, like all planes would without His loving intervention
* Columbine High School Massacre, 1999: Tinky Winky
* Indian Ocean Tsunami, 2004: Newlyweds Todd and Nancy Tate experimented with non-missionary sex during their honeymoon
* Hurricane Katrina, 2005: Divine retribution for Girls Gone Wild: Mardi Gras (Volume 3)

Bear Removal

A man wakes up one morning in Alaska to find a bear
on his roof. So he looks in the yellow pages and sure enough,
there's an ad for 'Bear Removers.'

He calls the number, and the bear remover says he'll be over in 30 minutes.
The bear remover arrives, and gets out of his van.

He's got a ladder, a baseball bat, a shotgun and a mean old pit bull.
'What are you going to do,' the homeowner asks?

'I'm going to put this ladder up against the roof, then I'm going to go up
there and knock the bear off the roof with this baseball bat. When the bear
falls off, the pit bull is trained to grab his testicles and not let go.
The bear will then be subdued enough for me to put him in the cage in the back
of the van.'

He hands the shotgun to the homeowner.
'What's the shotgun for?' asks the homeowner.

'If the bear knocks me off the roof, shoot the dog..'

Busting an iPhone thief
Monday - The Setup
The whole thing started when my plane landed in Los Angeles on Monday afternoon at 2:55pm coming from Cabo San Lucas. The guy sitting next to me on the plane asked me to loan him a pen so that he could fill out his customs form. I watched him fill out the form and clearly remember his birth year of 1984, but am a bit unsure about his name. I think it was -----, but in this story, we will refer to him as Pinche.
How It Was Lost
As we were about to disembark from the plane, I sent my friend Ramiro a text saying that I will be out of customs in about 30 minutes. I placed my phone back in my right pocket. I was sitting in seat 27A, next to the window, and Pinche was sitting in seat 27B. When it came time to move into the aisle, an old lady sitting in 27C started moving and so I stopped, but Pinche saw this as an opportunity. He bumped me, then jumped in front of the old lady and ran off of the plane. I waited for the old lady to step into the aisle, and I walked behind her. Five seconds later, I reached for my phone and it was not in my pocket anymore. I waited for everyone to exit the plane and went back to my seat. I looked everywhere but was not able to find the phone. One of the flight attendants (Karen) offered to help. She called the phone and it was not ringing. This was strange because I had perfect reception a minute ago. We concluded that the phone must be in customs because there is no reception in the customs area at LAX. My guess at this point was that as I rose from my seat, my phone fell out of my pocket and into Pinche’s bag. I hurried off of the plane and into the customs area.
Faceoff
In customs, I skipped passed the line and found Pinche. I asked him, “hey, did you accidentally grab my phone?” He responded, “No,” and took out another mobile phone from his pocket. What could I do? I didn’t want to accuse someone of a crime without any proof. I got the phone number of Karen the flight attendant, filed a report with the lost and found department for American Airlines and left the airport.
Tracking the iPhone
When I got to my office, I pulled up the MobileMe site and used the Find My Phone feature. To my surprise, the phone was in Sun Valley at a Daniel's Taco Stand!!! My conclusion was that the phone had actually fallen in Pinche’s bag and he was driving around without knowing that he has my phone!
Why did I assume this? Because if I were to steal an iPhone, I would unload it fast. I would not want to drive around with homing device after committing a crime! I wrote down the address in Sun Valley. At this point, I remotely locked the iPhone to protect my personal information. I also placed a message on the screen saying, “Please return this phone to Sam. (310) 856-xxxx. I did not get a call. I sent message after message. You can make the phone sound an alarm even if is on vibrate… so I was hoping that Pinche would find this thing and return it.... but no cigar. Boy, the phone must be deep inside his bag and probably in the trunk of his car because, an hour later, the phone had moved again, to another location in Sun Valley. Then, to my dismay, the phone went offline! I guessed that it’s probably inside of a parking lot, or just in one of a billion AT&T deadzones. I kept tracking it and by 10pm, it was at 1500 Gramercy in Los Angeles. Interesting swimming pool in this picture no?
Now I was beginning to get suspicious. I had sent 20 messages. Pinche must have opened his bag by now.
Tuesday - Faced with Defeat
The next day, I tracked the phone again, and it was traveling on the 99 freeway at exit 255 in Stockton! Now I knew that the phone was stolen. It might have been the cleaning crew, it might be Pinche, it might be someone who has purchased it. Again, I assume that whoever has it will soon, unlock, jailbreak and sell the phone on eBay. I sent message after message, but seeing that the phone was offline I assumed that it was either dead, thrown out of a car, or unlocked and sold. Goodbye my dear iPhone 3Gs. We had a beautiful month and a half together.
Wednesday - It's All Over
I did not see any trace of the phone all day. Whoever had it had either turned it off, or reprogrammed it. I began looking for a new phone. A new iPhone without renewing your plan runs about $700 after taxes. Man, I was feeling down. It's so depressing when you realize you've been had.
Thursday - Don’t Pickpocket the Devil
I got up on Thursday morning and checked my MobileMe account. Someone had turned the phone on at 7:30pm the previous night and he was in Lodi California. The iPhone lives! I posted the image of the apartment building and a map of the neighborhood on Facebook.
Many of you began commenting and a genius recommended me to check the calls made from the phone. I didn’t expect to find any calls because, why the hell would an iPhone thief leave a trail like that? It’s such a stupid crook thing to do.
I checked the calls, and HOLY CRAP!!! Someone made 2 calls to Mexico, one call to LA and one call to somewhere near Stockton within 5 minutes of me losing my phone!!! Pinche picked my pocket and began making calls as he was walking towards customs.
SON OF A BITCH - I WILL GET YOU!
Now, I like using google to find information on people, but I never really dive in too deep. By stealing my phone, Pinche gave me the moral greenlight to stalk the shit out of him and take away any sense of privacy he has for the rest of his life. I really couldn't get law-enforcement to help (they said that unless someone's life is in danger, they cant do anything), so my only option was to keep fucking with this guy until he returns my iPhone.
I wanted him to know, I know where he is, I know who his family members are, I know where he lives, I know who his roommates are, I know who his roommates cousins are, I know what his sister drives, I know where he eats, I know his name, I know his age, his mothers age… anything and everything to prove to this Pinche that he is holding Satan’s cell phone.
My tools are, Google, AT&T, MobileMe, White Pages and ussearch.com.
The (323) Number
When I googled the (323) number, I came up with a name and an address.The address was the same location that I had tracked the phone to on Monday night. This is where he slept that night. Notice the
interesting swimming pool? I also got a name. The name sounded familiar. I remembered that Pinche had filled out “m-----” on his customs form. At least now I know for sure that the guy on the plane is the one who took my phone, and he doesn't seem very iPhone savvy.
I ran a ussearch on the phone number and name and came up with an apartment number at this location. There are 6 people living in Apt ### at this address. I saved this information in case I needed some "make you shit your pants from the sheer terror of how little privacy I have now" ammunition.
I called the number, but the person that answered was an old lady and she only spoke in Spanish. So I asked my friend Ramiro to talk to her. He told me that the woman is really old and he doesn't want to harass her because she seems like a nice lady. He just told her that someone who has stolen my phone called her on January 11th at 3:44pm and that we just want the phone back.
Me and a friend planned to go to the apartment on Friday and leave a document with all this information. Just so they know that we know who they are, and that we know where Pinche is and what he's done!
The Mexico Number
I asked a lovely friend in Mexico to call the number since I was guessing nobody at that number would talk English. My friend told me that this number is from a place near Guadalajara. This is interesting because now I can devise that Pinche was not in Cabo for vacation, but probably connecting a flight. Also, he might be fearful of getting sent back to Mexico. More to scare him with! The woman who answered denied, denied and denied some more. She said she lives in a house with several other people and she has no idea who called who. She also said that she cant read or write so she cant write down our number or get back in touch with us. I have a feeling that this woman was his mother.
We called her again later that day to see if she found out who the person was who called her twice on Monday. Again she denied, but I think we got to her. I'm sure she had a talk with Pinche after that call.
The 209 Number
I called the (209) number. A woman picked up who called herself Luz. Luz was a bit confused as to why I was calling. I explained that someone who had stolen my phone had called her. She denied it, but I told her that she had a 4 minute conversation with him. She still denied it. Again I said, "he called you right after we landed, then he came to your town the next day. You must know him." Finally she gave in and said that perhaps someone had left her a message (but who leaves 4 minute messages?). She “checked” the message and said that it was silent. No name and no message. I was going nowhere with this call unless I had more SCARY personal info on her. I said I would call her back.
I googled the number and got nothing. Then I tried ussearch.com. For $10, I got Luz's full name and three other names associated with the phone number. Then I ran the names in the White Pages and got an address. I googled the address and got a streetview of the house. There is a white Ford Explorer parked out front of the house. Now I know what they drive. Muh huah hah hah ha ha hah hah hahhhh ha haaaaaa
Friday - I Own You Pinche!
I called her back and left a message using her full name, her husband’s full name, and mentioned their address in Manteca California. I also told her the street address of where I had tracked Pinche in Lodi California. I said, “If you’re protecting this guy, what you should do is have him call me and return my phone. If he doesn’t return my phone, I promise that I will have every law enforcement agency looking for him."
Twenty Minutes Later
Luz called me and was extremely nice. She said she knows who called me and she is very mad at him. She apologized for his behavior and said that she was very embarrassed by what he's done. Then, she said in a tone that is only possessed by angry Latinas, "If he doesn't call you, I WILL MAKE SURE HE RETURNS THAT PHONE! I WILL GET TO HIM AND I WILL TEACH HIM A LESSON!" I thanked her and she insisted that I should not thank her because it's my phone that was stolen. I'm guessing by the fact that she was embarrassed by the situation that Pinche is somehow related to her.
One hour later
I'm assuming at this point that Pinche's mother, sister, aunt, uncle whoever these people were have talked to him and he is aware that we know his location. This is the image that was on the iPhone when he would turn it on. It says his name and his address in LA.
Pinche called. However, now he didn't speak any English. No problem, Ramiro was in the office and he grabbed the phone. By now, we have so much info on this guy that we should be able to hear him crap his pants. Now, Pinche is not a good liar. First he said that he bought the phone in Mexico, which is ridiculous because I used it in front of his face in LA. Then he said that he's in Nevada, but we had a track on him in Lodi California. He said his name is Alfonso... His voice was quivering. Ramiro told him to put the phone in a package and mail it overnight to LA. Pinche said "Okay, but you know, I spent a lot of money buying this phone. Can you reimburse me for the money I lost?"
Ramiro asked, "Who sold you the phone?"
"A friend of mine."
"Well you have a very bad friend, maybe you should ask him to give you your money back."
"Yeah, but I don't think he can."
"Okay, what we can do is, file a police report and have him fined and arrested, then he can pay you back too. We know the ---- family that live in 1500 Gramercy in LA, the ---- who live in Manteca and we know where the robber has been for the past five days. Should we file the report?"
"that's okay. I'll mail it."
He gave us a phone number to reach him by, and I immediately did a background check on the number. It was a Lodi California phone number belonging to a man named Fernando N -----.
We told him that we'd give him a check for the postage if he doesn't have it. He was very happy about that.
I showed Ramiro the name that had come up on the search. Ramiro asked, "Who is Fernando N. ____"
Absolute silence.
Ramiro started giggling.
Pinche gave us an address in LA to send the check to. It was the second location that I tracked in Sun Valley on Monday afternoon. Ramiro mentioned that we saw him at that location at 6pm on Monday.
Silence. Then he said, "It's okay. You don't have to send a check."
I will still send him a check... to see what name he puts on it. I dont think he realizes that I can see a scan of the check on the bofa.com website.

Saturday - 12pm - Reunited

i've seen this before, but cannot remember if i posted it here, so here goes:

Pocket Tazer Stun Gun, a great gift for the wife. A guy who purchased his lovely wife a pocket Tazer for their anniversary submitted this: > Last weekend I saw something at Larry's Pistol & Pawn Shop that sparked my interest. The occasion was our 15th anniversary and I was looking for a little something extra for my wife Julie. What I came across was a 100,000-volt, pocket/purse- sized tazer. The effects of the tazer were supposed to be short lived, with no long-term adverse affect on your assailant, allowing her adequate time to retreat to safety....?? WAY TOO COOL!
Long story short, I bought the device and brought it home. I loaded two AAA batteries in the darn thing and pushed the button. Nothing! I was
disappointed. I learned, however, that if I pushed the button and pressed it against a metal surface at the same time; I'd get the blue arc of electricity darting back and forth between the prongs. AWESOME!!! Unfortunately, I have yet to explain to Julie what that burn spot is on the face of her microwave. Okay, so I was home alone with this new toy, thinking to myself that it couldn't be all that bad with only two triple-A batteries, right? There I sat in my recliner, my cat Gracie looking on intently (trusting little soul) while I was reading the directions and thinking that I really needed to try this thing out on a flesh & blood moving target. I must admit I thought about zapping Gracie (for a fraction of a second) and
thought better of it. She is such a sweet cat. But, if I was going to give this thing to my wife to protect herself against a mugger, I did want some assurance that it would work as advertised.. Am I wrong? So, there I sat in a pair of shorts and a tank top with my reading glasses perched delicately on the bridge of my nose, directions in one hand, and tazer in another. The directions said that a one-second burst would shock and disorient your assailant; a two-second burst was supposed to cause muscle spasms and a major loss of bodily control; a three-second burst would purportedly make your assailant flop on the ground like a fish out of water. Any burst longer than three seconds would be wasting the batteries.
All the while I'm looking at this little device measuring about 5" long, less than 3/4 inch in circumference; pretty cute really and (loaded with two itsy, bitsy triple-A batteries) thinking to myself, 'no possible way!' What happened next is almost beyond description, but I'll do my best..
I'm sitting there alone, Gracie looking on with her head cocked to one side as to say, 'don't do it dipshit,' reasoning that a one second burst from such a tiny little ole thing couldn't hurt all that bad. I decided to give myself a one second burst just for heck of it. I touched the prongs to my naked thigh, pushed the button, and . .
HOLY MOTHER OF GOD. . WEAPONS OF MASS DESTRUCTION . . WHAT THE HELL!!! I'm pretty sure Jessie Ventura ran in through the side door, picked me up in the recliner, and then body slammed us both on the carpet, over and over and over again. I vaguely recall waking up on my side in the fetal
position, with tears in my eyes, body soaking wet, both nipples on fire, testicles nowhere to be found, with my left arm tucked under my body in
the oddest position, and tingling in my legs? The cat was making meowing sounds I had never heard before, clinging to a picture frame hanging above the fireplace, obviously in an attempt to avoid getting slammed by my body flopping all over the living room. Note: If you ever feel compelled to 'mug' yourself with a tazer, one note of caution: there is no such thing as a one second burst when you zap yourself! You will not let go of that thing until it is dislodged from your hand by a violent thrashing about on the floor.. A three second burst would be considered conservative?
IT HURT LIKE HELL!!!
A minute or so later (I can't be sure, as time was a relative thing at that point), I collected my wits (what little I had left), sat up and surveyed the landscape. My bent reading glasses were on the mantel of the fireplace. The recliner was upside down and about 8 feet or so from where
it originally was. My triceps, right thigh and both nipples were still twitching. My face felt like it had been shot up with Novocain, and my bottom
lip weighed 88 lbs. I had no control over the drooling. Apparently I pooped on myself, but was too numb to know for sure and my sense of smell was gone. I saw a faint smoke cloud above my head which I believe came from my hair. I'm still looking for my nuts and I'm offering a significant reward for their safe return! P.S. My wife, can't stop laughing about my experience, loved the gift, and now regularly threatens me with it! If you think education is difficult, try being stupid!!!

Sex With an Illegal Immigrant- -

An illegal immigrant picks up a hooker. "Hey, how much you charge for da hour, sister?" he asks. "$100," she replies.

In broken English, he says, "Do you do immigrant style?"

"No" she says.

"I pay you $200 to do immigrant style."

"No," she says, not knowing what immigrant style is.

"I pay you $300."

"No," she says.

"I pay you $400."

"No," she says.

So finally he says, "OK, I pay $1,000 to do immigrant style."

She thinks, "Well, I've been in the game for over 10 years now. I've had every kind of request from weirdoes from every part of the world. How bad could immigrant style be?"

So she agrees and has sex with him. Finally, after several hours, they finish. Exhausted, the hooker turns to him and says, "Hey, I was expecting something perverted and disgusting. But that was good. So, what exactly is immigrant style?"< /SPAN>

The illegal immigrant replies, "You send bill to Government."

Donald Duck and Daisy Duck were spending the night together in a hotel room and Donald wanted to have sex with Daisy.

The first thing Daisy asked was, "Do you have a condom?"


Donald frowned and said, "No."


Daisy told Donald that if he didn't get a condom, they could not have sex.

"Maybe they sell them at the front desk," she suggested.

So Donald went down to the lobby and asked the hotel clerk if they had condoms.


"Yes, we do," the clerk said and pulled a box out from under the counter and gave it to Donald.


The clerk asked..............
"Would you like me to...
put them on your bill?"




"Thit No!"..... Donald quacked,

I'll thuffocate!"

Completely and utterly stolen from [www.tuckermax.com]

It's long, but ...


Tucker tries buttsex; hilarity does not ensue

I spent the summer between my 2nd and 3rd year of college suckling on the parental teat in South Florida. It was the absolute prime of my "do anything to get laid" phase. I was recently freed from a 4-year long-distance relationship that began in high school and I wanted nothing more than to have sex with as many girls as possible.

Most of the things I did that summer are not story-worthy; you can only tell the same, "I got drunk on Dom and fucked this hottie" story so many times before it gets annoying. That summer I experienced every random sex situation that a 20 year old can imagine: fucking on the beach, getting head from random girls in club bathrooms, sleeping with 3 different girls in a day, getting so drunk I passed out during sex, getting arrested for receiving fellatio in the pool at the Delano, blah, blah, blah...Jesus. What does it say about how fucked up my life is that I don't consider these stories to be extraordinary anymore?

Anyway, while most of my stories may not be extraordinary for me, there is one very notable exception...

I was seeing one girl, "Jaime," about twice a week. She was a fresh arrival to South Beach, having moved there 5 months ago from upstate New York as a 19 year old with a modeling contract. We met through a mutual friend who befriended her while they were shooting a TV commercial. Five weeks and lots of sex later, she thought we were dating. I knew better, but she was way too hot to bother correcting her assumption.

The ex-girlfriend of 4-years I previously spoke about was very sexually conservative. It was missionary in the dark and then straight to sleep, with maybe a blowjob on the weekends if she'd had a few glasses of wine with dinner (it was a high school relationship, I didn't know any better). After four years of this, I was ready to experience all the things I'd missed out on (when I wasn't cheating on her, of course).

Buttsex, known in the biz as "anal," was one of these unknowns, and I decided that I wanted to try it. Jaime was the perfect partner: very hot and very sweet, and more importantly, very naïve and very open to suggestion.

She was reluctant at first, not understanding why we just couldn't keep having normal sex, so I had to employ my persuasive powers:

Jaime "But...I've never done it."
Tucker "I've never done it either; it can be our thing."

Jaime "But...I don't know if I'll like it."
Tucker "You won't have to worry about getting pregnant."

Jaime "But...I like normal sex."
Tucker "Everyone's doing anal. It's the new black."

Jaime "But...I don't know...it seems weird."
Tucker "It's the preferred method in Europe. Especially with the runway models. Don't you want to do runways in Europe?"

After a few weeks of this, she finally consented. Though she agreed to let me put my penis in her small hole, she extracted a promise in return:

"OK, we can try anal sex, but I want it to be special and romantic. You have to take me out to a nice place, like The Forge or Tantra, NOT one of your parent's restaurants, and it has to be a weekend night, NOT a Monday. And you have to keep taking me out on weekends. I'm tired of being your Monday night girl."

I made reservations for the next Friday at Tantra. Aside from being insanely expensive, Tantra is famous for having grass floors. Really; they put in new sod every week. They also advertise their food as "aphrodisiac cuisine." Yes, at that point in my life, I thought these things worked.

Thanks to my father's connections, I got us a corner booth in the grass room. She was quite impressed. I ordered like it was the Last Supper. No expense was spared. Two $110 bottles of merlot, veal rack, stone crabs, the Tantra Love platter--it was lavish and decadent. I was 21, stupid, and wanted to fuck Jaime in the butt; I wasn't about to let a $400 tab get in my way.

By the time we left Tantra, this girl had doe eyes that made Bambi look like a heroin-chic CK model. She could not have been more in love with me. The entire drive back to my place she was rubbing my crotch, telling me how badly she wanted to me to fuck her, how hot I made her, etc, etc. We get back to my place and our clothes are off before we even get in the door. We collapse on the bed and start fucking. Normal vaginal sex at first, just like always.

Now, what she did not know, and what I have not told you yet, was that I had a surprise waiting for her.

[Aside: Before I tell you what the surprise was, let me make this clear: As I stand right now, 27 as of this writing, I am a bad person. At 21, I was possibly the worst person in existence. I had no regard for the feelings of others, I was narcissistic and self-absorbed to the point of psychotic delusion, and I saw other people only as a means to my happiness and not as humans worthy of respect and consideration. I have no excuse for what I did; it was wrong and I regret it. Even though I normally revel in my outlandish behavior, sometimes even I cross the line, and this is one of those situations....but of course, I'm still going to write about it.]

This was going to be my first time foraging in the ass forest, and I wanted to have a reminder of my trip, a memento I could carry with me the rest of my life...so I decided to film us.

I planned this beforehand, but I was afraid she would decline, so instead of being mature and discussing this with Jaime, I just made the executive decision to get it on camera...without telling her.

That alone is pretty bad. But instead of just setting up a hidden camera...I got my friend to hide in my closet and film it.

No really--I know that I will burn in hell. At this point, I'm just hoping that my life can serve as a warning to others.

I left my door unlocked and we arranged it so that around midnight my friend would go over to my place and wait until my car pulled in, and then run into the closet and get the camera ready. The top half of the closet door was a French shutter, so it was easy to move the slats and give him a decent camera shot through the closed door.

By the time Jaime and I got to the bed, I was so drunk I had forgotten that he was filming this, and of course she had no idea he was there. After a few minutes of standard sex, she kinda stopped and said, all serious and in her best seductive soap opera voice, "I'm ready."

I quickly flipped her over and grabbed the brand new bottle of AstroGlide I had on my bedside table.

A week prior, after Jaime consented to buttsex, I realized that I didn't have any idea how to do it. How exactly do you fuck a girl in the ass? Luckily, I had the world's best anal sex informational resource at my disposal: The gay waiter. I consulted several gay waiters who worked at one of my parents restaurants about the mechanics of buttsex, and each one recommended AstroGlide as the lubricant of choice. Much to my dismay, I learned that spitting on your dick is not enough lube for buttsex. Stupid, lying porn movies.

The other important piece of advice I remembered was from Calvin, "Make sure you use enough, because if this is her first time, she'll be especially tight, and it might hurt her. Use enough to really loosen her up and go slow until she gets used to it. Then it's smooth sailing from there."

Well, since some is good, more is better, right? At 21, this seemed logical.

I opened the cap, crammed the bottle top into her asshole, and squeezed. I probably emptied half of the 4-ounces of AstroGlide into her. I have since learned from homosexuals that a 4-ounce bottle usually lasts them about 6 months. So yeah--I overdid it.

But Tucker Max wasn't done. Oh no, after depositing enough grease in her to run a Formula One racecar, I dumped half of what remained onto my cock and balls, really wanting to lube up because I didn't want her to be uncomfortable.

Really--consider my thought process: I was going to fuck her in the butt and film it without her consent, yet I was truly concerned about her personal comfort. Sometimes the contradictions in my personality even amuse me.

Predictably, I slid in with ease. She was a little tense at first, but with an Exxon Valdez size load spilled into her poop chute, she quickly loosened up and got into it. I liked it also; it had a different feel to it. Not as good as vaginal sex, a little grainy, kinda tight, but still very nice.

Before I knew it I was fucking her like the apocalypse was imminent, burying it to the hilt with impunity. After a few minutes I was ready to come. My urgency was expressed in my tempo, and I began really jackhammering her. As the excitement got the best of me, I pulled out too far and my dick came out of her ass. I kinda scrambled to grab my dick and put it back in so I could finish off inside of her, but before I could even get a hold of it and put it back in her ass, I heard a faint "psssst" sound and felt something wet and warm hit my crotch.

It was dark in the room (I was not smart or sober enough to leave the lights on for the camera), so after I looked down it took me a few seconds to realize that my dick, balls and groin area were covered in a viscous black liquid. I stopped moving and stared at my strangely colored crotch for a good 5 seconds, completely confused, until I realized what happened:

"Did you...did you just...shit on my dick??"

I reached down to touch the liquid feces, still in complete and utter disbelief that this girl shot explosive diarrhea on my penis, when, without warning, the smell hit me.

I have a very sensitive nose, and I have never been more repulsed by a smell in my life. The combination of synthetic AstroGlide and rancid stench of raw fecal matter combined to turn my stomach, which was full of seafood, veal and wine, completely over.

I tried to hold it back. I really did everything I could to stop myself, but there are certain physical reactions that are beyond conscious control. Before I knew what I was doing, it just came out:

"BBBBBBLLLLLLLLLLLLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH"

I vomited all over her ass. Into her crack. Into her asshole. On her ass cheeks. On the small of her back. Everywhere.

She turned her head, said, "Tucker, what are you doing?," saw me vomiting on her, screamed "Oh my God!," and immediately joined me:

"BBBBBBLLLLLLLLLLLLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH"

Watching her throw up on my bed made me vomit even more. Her vomiting all over my bed, me vomiting on her ass, the next step was almost inevitable.

I heard the loud CRASH first, turned to see my friend break through the shutters and rip the closet door off as he, the video camera, and the door tumbled out of the closet and crashed onto the floor next to us:

"BBBBBBLLLLLLLLLLLLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH"

The memory of the 2-second span where all three of us were vomiting at once is permanently seared into my brain. I have never heard anything like that symphony of sickness. It was like something out of the old Pink Panther movies.

I think the crowning moment was when my eyes locked with Jaime's, I saw her moment of realization and then her quick shift from shock and surprise to complete and irreparable anger. Between bouts of hurling she flipped out:

"OH MY GOD--BBBLLLLAAAAHHHH--YOU FILMED THIS, YOU ASSHOLE-- BBBLLLLAAAAHHHH-- HOW COULD YOU-- BBBLLLLAAAAHHHH--I THOUGHT YOU LOVED ME--BBBLLLLAAAAHHHH--OH MY GOD-- BBBLLLLAAAAHHHH--I LET YOU FUCK ME IN THE ASS--BBBLLLLAAAAHHHH."

She tried to stand up, slipped on the huge puddle of backflow AstroGlide on the bed, and fell into both my pile and her pile of vomit, covering her body and hair in vomit, shit and anal lubricant. She flailed on the bed for a second, grabbed the top sheet, wrapped it around her, and started running out of my place. Still naked and retching, my dick covered in shit and oil, I followed her as far as my front door.

The last contact I ever had with her is the image I witnessed of her in a dead sprint, a shit, vomit and grease stained sheet stuck to her body, running from my apartment.


POST-SCRIPT:

The camera we used was one of those old fragile ones that filmed onto a VHS tape, and when he crashed out of the closet, the tape recorder and tape broke. It didn't occur to us at that the tape records the images magnetically, and we could take the actual tape itself and get someone to put it in another holster until after we had thrown it out. I know it seems stupid now, and believe me I kick myself about it everyday, but you should have seen the apartment afterwards--the tape was not a high priority. AstroGlide, shit and vomit covered EVERYTHING.

I had to rent one of those steam cleaners, buy a new mattress, and I STILL lost my deposit. It was impossible to get the smell out. The next month was like living in a sewer. Every girl I brought back to my place after that refused to stay there, and some even refused to sleep with me anywhere because of how my place smelled.

What I never found out, and I still want to know, is how the girl got home. I never heard from her again, and the mutual friend who introduced us called her but didn't get her calls returned. I never heard anything about her or from her again, even though she left her clothes and ID at my place (she wore a tight dress out that night, and didn't bring a purse or any money with her).

Can you picture that scene? What did she do, hop in taxi? Wave down a passing car? Get on the bus? She lived at least 30 miles away, there is no way she walked home. It perplexes me to this day.

I'm hoping she reads this. Maybe then I'll find out how she got home.

A city is experiencing a terrible flood. A man is sitting on his front porch watching the water rise and a jeep drives up. “Get in! Everything’s going to be underwater!” “No thanks. God will save me. An hour passes and the water Has risen in the house. A boat comes by. “Get in! You’re going to drown!” “No thanks. God will save me.” The water rises over the house. The man is now on the roof. A helicopter flies overhead. “We’ll lower a line. Grab it or you’ll die!” “No thanks. God will save me.” The man drowns. When he gets to Heaven and meets God he says, “God! Why didn’t you save me?!”

“I sent a jeep, a boat, and a helicopter. What more did you want?”

Two dwarfs go into a bar, where they pick up two prostitutes and take them to their separate hotel rooms. The first dwarf, however, is unable to get an erection. His depression is made worse by the fact that, from the next room, he hears his little friend shouting out cries of “Here I come again …ONE, TWO, THREE…UUH!” all night long. In the morning, the second dwarf asks the first, “How did it go?” The first mutters, “It was so embarrassing. I simply couldn’t get a hard on.” The second dwarf shook his head. “You think that’s embarrassing?” “I couldn’t even get on the fucking bed"

Tiger Woods Apology

What Tiger Woods Wanted to Say at His Press Conference


Let me just say to all my fans that I feel sorry for everyone who criticized me for my extra-marital affairs. You must live a miserable existence if you have nothing better to do than read about my personal life in the tabloids. But I suppose I should provide an explanation about my behavior so that you will continue to buy the products I endorse.


So here goes. I am an average looking man of mixed racial descent. Like most men, I had trouble getting pussy before I became a famous multimillionaire. I did okay at Stanford because I was on the golf team, but the women there graded out with a “B” because they were leftovers that players on the football team didn’t want. Before that, I got nothing because I have a bland personality and big lips.


Then, I win a few golf tournaments and women are lining up at my door. Of course, I took advantage of my opportunities. These were women who wouldn’t give me the time of day if I sold insurance or worked on a used car lot. They wanted me so they could brag to their friends about having sex with a celebrity, while holding the belief that one day they would live a life of luxury as the wife of Tiger Woods. When that didn’t happen, they seized on an opportunity to sell their story to the tabloids, all the while looking the part of a woman scorned.


Now I want to discuss my wife. When I met Elin, she was just like the others, except she played the “hard-to-get” strategy that women often use to corral men. It worked. She had all the qualities I wanted in a woman: pretty face, nice tits, nice ass, and an inviting personality. We dated for a while, had wild sex, and we genuinely enjoyed other’s company. When I asked her to marry me, she accepted. Why wouldn't she? Only an idiot would say no to a lavish lifestyle that most people only dream about.


Our marriage was okay. We have two wonderful children and Elin is a good mother. But since she had those kids, she’s become a bitch, and doesn’t want to have sex very often. And, she won’t accompany me on road trips, except to the major championships. Unfortunately, my job requires that I travel to a different city every week where women nod approvingly at me where ever I go. Do you see the problem here?


To all the men out there: What would you have done in my shoes? Would you have said no to all the women who lined up to meet you, especially after listening to your wife bitch at you over the telephone for not spending enough time at home with her and the kids? And to all the women: How many of you would have turned down an opportunity to spend a night with me, knowing that you could sell your story to a tabloid for 500K?


I feel bad about the potential damage my actions might cause my kids. As for Elin, I can think of at least 300 million reasons why she will be okay if we divorce and she is forced to survive on her own. And don’t forget that vast support network she will have after appearing on Oprah and The View.


As for me, I have paid dearly for my transgressions. I have lost millions and might lose custody of my children. Almost everyone who sees me takes great pleasure seeing me in pain.


The letters "Saint" or "St." do not precede my name. You're telling me it's O.K. to screw everything in sight and be president like Bill Clinton did, but you can't be a pro-golfer?


Did I become famous for being a model married man, or was it because I'm the best damn golfer in the world?


Now here I stand, while you sit there anxiously waiting to hear my heartfelt apology, when all I really want to tell you is “Fuck Off!”

A CNN journalist heard about a very old Jewish man who had been going to the Western Wall to pray, twice a day, every day, for a long, long time.

So she went to check it out. She went to the Western Wall and there he was, walking slowly up to the holy site.

She watched him pray and after about 45 minutes, when he turned to leave, using a cane and moving very slowly, she approached him for an interview.

"Pardon me, sir, I'm Rebecca Smith from CNN. What's your name?

"Morris Feinberg," he replied.

"Sir, how long have you been coming to the Western Wall and praying?"

"For about 60 years."

"60 years! That's amazing! What do you pray for?"

"I pray for peace between the Christians, Jews and the Muslims."

"I pray for all the wars and all the hatred to stop."

"I pray for all our children to grow up safely as responsible adults, and to love their fellow man."

"How do you feel after doing this for 60 years?"

"Like I'm talking to a fuckin' wall."

A REDNECK was walking home late at night and sees a woman in the Shadows.
>
> 'Twenty dollars' she whispers.
>
> Bubba had never been with a hooker before, but decides what the hell, it's
>
> only twenty bucks, So they hide in the bushes.
>
> They're 'engaged' for a minute when all of a sudden a light flashes on them.
> It
>
> is a police officer.
>
> 'What's going on here, people?' Asks the officer.
>
> 'I'm making love to my wife!,' Bubba answers sounding annoyed.
>
> 'Oh, I'm sorry,' says the cop, 'I didn't know'
>
> 'Well, neidder did I, til ya shined that light in her face.'